Disclaimer: AtS and its characters don't belong to me. They are the rightful property of Joss Whedon, David Greenwalt, Mutant Enemy and the WB. I'm just borrowing them for entertainment purposes only. No infringement of copyright is intended.
Spoilers: Nope, none.
Author's Note: Stepping up the angst and drama another notch. Hope you enjoy!
Many thanks to RosalieHale1997 and Starscape91 for reviewing the last chapter. I really appreciate it.
Please read and review - it's almost Christmas!
Chapter Thirteen
When Angel and Kathy returned to the hotel, Angel went straight upstairs without speaking to anyone.
"Bad news?" Wesley asked Kathy.
"She left a note," Kathy said. "She's gone. For good."
Wesley's eyes widened in shock. "Surely not! Cordelia wouldn't just up and leave. Certainly not without saying goodbye."
"She said she'd call when she ends up wherever she's going."
"But surely if Angel spoke to her, he'd – "
"He's spoken to her. On the phone. It… didn't go well."
"I don't get it," Gunn said. "This isn't like Cordy. She doesn't run away – from anything."
"Well, whatever the reason is, she's running now," Kathy said.
"So what's the plan?" Gunn said. "He's going after, right?"
"Yes, of course he will," Wesley said. "Does Angel have any ideas on how to track her down?"
Kathy shook her head. "No."
"Well, no matter. I'm sure we can figure out – "
"I mean no, he's not going after her," Kathy said. "He's letting her go."
Wesley's look of confusion quickly became one of anger. "I don't accept that," he said.
Neither Kathy nor Gunn tried to stop him as he made his way up the stairs to confront the brooding vampire.
Angel collapsed into a chair in his room, the same chair in which Cordelia had found him in the previous night. Just before they…
No, he couldn't think about that. It wasn't real. It was just a moment of weakness on both their parts. They had been lonely, reeling from Kathy's revelations. It couldn't have been real, not from her side, anyway.
She didn't love him.
How could she? He was a vampire. Cold. Dead. She was so vibrant, so full of warmth and life. What could she possibly get from loving a dead thing like him? She deserved so much more than he could ever possibly give her.
It was better this way, he told himself. She deserved a normal life, something she'd never get to have if she stayed with him, either as a friend or as a lover. He'd speak to Wesley, the Powers, do whatever he could to have the visions taken from her and then she'd truly be free. She'd be able to move on and have the life she deserved. As would he.
He deserved to be alone.
Woried brown eyes watched the unmoving figure of Cordelia, who was lying bound in the centre of the room.
Adrianna was troubled. She had been raised in her people's ways, taught to follow her culture without question. And yet, seeing this apparently innocent woman, rendered unconscious at the hand of one of her clan, she couldn't help but wonder: Where they truly on the side of right?
"Adrianna?"
She turned to find her grandfather watching her from the door.
"What are you doing, child?" he asked. "The ritual is about to begin."
"I was just..." She hesitated. Her grandfather had always encouraged her to speak her mind, but on this she was unsure of how he would react. "This woman. Has she done anything to us?"
"Enyos explained this to you already, child," he said. "She is bound to the vampire. He must be made to suffer as our people have suffered."
Adrianna touched the still raw bite mark on her neck. "But he saved me."
Her grandfather rapped his cane angrily on the floor. "And he would have drank from you as quickly. Do you forget what he took from our clan? He murdered a daughter precious to us. Because of him, her entire family was wiped out. And then Janna, your own cousin. Have you forgotten what he did to her?"
Adrianna lowered her eyes under his furious gaze. "No, grandfather. I haven't forgotten."
"Then come, child. You are needed in the kitchen."
She followed him into the other room which was crowded with people. She watched as they passed a earthenware chalice across the room to her grandfather, who glanced at Enyos. The man, who was standing by the wall at the far side of the room, gave an almost imperceivable nod. In response, her grandfather picked up a dagger and approached Adrianna with both it and the cup.
"Hold out your arm child."
She looked around the room and saw that everyone was holding the crook of their arms, staunching wounds of their own. All except Enyos, who stood impassively watching the scene. Adrianna did not like nor trust her great-uncle and the fact that he had declined to be bled when everyone else was expected to made her dislike him further. She scowled at him, yet obediently held her arm out to her grandfather, allowing him to cut her.
She watched, fascinated as the red, sticky liquid trickled out of her and into the cup. He bled her only for a moment and then gently bent her arm upwards to stem the flow.
Enyos smiled. "It is time."
The world felt strange. Fuzzy. Her head felt like it had been wrapped in cotton wool and plastic, then submerged beneath water. She detected a strange taste in the back of her throat then gradually came to realise that it was bile. She choked and tried to sit up but found herself pinned to the ground. She opened her eyes.
Cordelia found herself on the floor of a darkened room. The dim flickering of light in one corner indicated candles were the only light source, but they didn't do much to cut through the gloom. She tried to move again and found that ropes were holding her tight, her arms and legs outstretched and firmly bound.
She tilted her head, trying to see what was going on. She saw runic markings on the floor surrounding her. They seemed to form a circle, with her at its centre.
She rested her head back against the floor again and closed her eyes. Every move she made sent waves of nausea through her, along with sharp, shooting pains in her skull. Whatever they had knocked her out with was clearly still in her system.
A door opened and she heard footsteps. Opening her eyes again, she saw many people enter the room and surround her. Her mind panicked, flashing back to her dreams.
Shadows moved towards her. Hooded figures gathering, circling around her. She was surrounded. Trapped.
She struggled against her bonds, but it was no use. They were too tight. All around her the hooded figures began to chant, in a language she didn't understand, but she recognised all too well from her dreams. Only one word rang through her mind.
Vengeance.
The old man she had spoken to earlier, Enyos, moved into her view and stood near her feet. An an old woman approached her. The crone anointed her forehead with some kind of oil.
A man, older than Enyos, loomed large above her, clutching a dagger which he raised above his head.
"Te invoc spirit al trecerii.
Este scris, aceasta putere este dreptul poporul meu de a conduce."
He brought the dagger down, cutting into the tender flesh on her upper arm. As her blood began to flow, the old woman stooped to catch it in an earthenware cup. Into it she mixed several herbs, chanting softly as she did so. Cordelia watched her fearfully, gasping for breath as panic seized her.
The old woman handed the cup to the man, who had disgarded the dagger in favour of another, larger chalice. He poured the mixture of Cordelia's blood into it then raised it above his head.
"Luaţi această sufletul pereche de un necurat ca sacrificiul nostru.
Dă-ne răzbunare nostru de drept.
Face creatura suferă ca poporul nostru au avut de suferit.
Fa-o sa vezi toate crimele lui.
Aşa să fie! Acum!"
The old woman pushed Cordelia's jaw down, forcing her mouth open. Cordelia's eyes opened wide as she realised what they were about to do. She struggled, but the woman was surprisingly strong. All she could do was struggle and watch as the old man tipped the cup and poured the contents into her mouth.
She gagged at the coppery taste. Blood. Warm blood.
It trickled down her throat and inside of her, filling every inch of her with darkness. She felt herself slipping away; the room, the hooded figures, even the ropes which held her melting away into nothing.
At last, all she could see was him. Angel. His face full of anguish, despair. And all he could say were two words.
"I'm sorry."
Then the pain began, searing through her like hot irons beneath her skin. She slipped further and further into the darkness, where pain and torment would be her only companions.
Wesley found Angel exactly as he expected to. Sitting in a chair, brooding.
Pity, anger and frustration filled him with equal measure, but Wesley knew only too well that pity would do the vampire no good. He needed to act and act quickly, and enabling his self-pity would not spur him into action.
"Go away, Wesley."
"Yes, I should think you'd very much like everyone to go away, Angel," Wesley said. "But it isn't going to happen. You've been on this path for very nearly two years now, with us at your side. And we're not going to abandon you now."
"She did." Angel looked at him and Wesley had never seen such pain.
"It may seem like that, Angel. But I believe there's more to this that meets the eye. Leaving like this, it's very unlike her. I suspect there is some larger reason for her going. I really don't think she would leave of her own free will."
"No," Angel said, shaking his head. "She wrote the note. She told me on the phone. It's better this way. She can't… we can't… It would be reckless and selfish for us to be together. It's better she goes."
"For you? Or for her?"
"For her! She could never have a normal life here."
"And when did she ask for one?" Wesley asked. When Angel didn't reply, he sighed with frustration. "And so we're back to Buffy again."
"This has nothing to do with Buffy!"
"Hasn't it? You left her so that she could have a normal life. Something, as I recall, she talked at great length about wanting. But when have you ever heard Cordelia complain about the world we live in? When has she ever said that she'd like to give up the visions and go live in suburbia rather than helping the people we help every day?"
"She… she doesn't need to say it. Of course she would want to be normal if she could."
Wesley shook his head. "If you think that, then you really don't know her at all. And you certainly don't deserve her. Now, Cordelia may be in real danger. We need to find her."
"Kathy said she can probably stop the dreams and visions remotely, now she knows more about the ritual," Angel said. "She doesn't need Cordelia to be physically present."
"And you think that's the only danger she faces?" Wesley asked. "Are you really that blind? Angel, look beyond your own pain here. Someone obviously wanted Cordelia away from your protection and they held enough power over her to make her leave. That leaves her open to all kinds of attack."
"You don't know that she didn't leave of her own freewill, Wesley," Angel said. "You don't – "
He was cut off mid-sentence by a pain in his stomach, which moved up towards where his lifeless heart sat in his chest. The pain was crushing, almost unbearable. And as he felt it, he knew she was feeling it too. It was her pain that he was experiencing.
"Cordy," he said as he collapsed to the floor.
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
In the ritual which which is performed in this chapter, the first and last parts are taken from the Ritual of Restoration which was performed in both BtVS and AtS ("Becoming" (parts 1 and 2) and "Orpheus"). Those lines are: Te invoc spirit al trecerii (Spirits of the Interregnum I call), Este scris, aceasta putere este dreptul poporul meu de a conduce (It is written, this power is my people's right to wield) and Aşa să fie! Acum! (So shall it be! Now!). These lines were borrowed for entertainment purposes only.
The middle part of the ritual is my own invention, and here it should be noted that I do not speak Romanian, so this is a google translation (I apologise for any errors in the language). It translates as: "Take this soulmate of the unclean one as our sacrifice. Give us our rightful vengeance. Make the creature suffer as our people have suffered. Make her see all his crimes."